


Connections

by pocketpuppet



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Beforus, M/M, Multi, Pre-Scratch, Pre-Sgrub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:39:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2340422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketpuppet/pseuds/pocketpuppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You would think it would be easy, finding him, but it's not. There are dozens of copies of him out there, all with similar memories and copy-paste personalities. But none of them were yours. None of them. God you're getting tired of looking. A millennium has come and went and still you've yet to find him.</p><p>If you had known from the start the kind of bitterness your future with him would have brought, you probably would have turned your back on him the instant you met him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I haven't really written any fanfics for a long time now but I've had this idea stuck in my head for like a month and I think it's time I finally gave in. Hopefully it'll turn out alright and hopefully I can remember to actually update this thing.

You are... You are nobody of importance, really. You have a name, one you've possessed for sweeps upon sweeps. It's been a long, long while since you've spoken it aloud, however, and you have no reason to do so now. Not even the urgings of an unfamiliar voice could prompt you to do so. For you see, there's no reason to share it. What use is a name if there's no one around to call you by it? None that you're able to discern.

You've wandered these bubbles for a long time. Not nearly as long as you've had a name, but long enough to drive you mad. Batshit, flying off the freaking handle, ready to rip someone apart, mad. You can almost feel your claws shredding through an unsuspecting dreamdweller's effigy. But what use would it be to kill someone who's already dead?

You give a sigh. That's typically how you respond to just about any urge. Consider it, imagine it, but never actually doing it. Because, "what use is it" to do etcetcetc? Just about anything can go at the end of the question, and you're more hard-pressed to find something that can't go there than something that you even feel like doing.

Actually, that's a lie. You know one thing that you would never put those four words in front: Looking for you precious matesprit. You would think it would be easy, finding him, but it's not. There are dozens of copies of him out there, all with similar memories and copy-paste personalities. But none of them were  _yours._ None of them. God you're getting tired of looking. A millennium has come and went and still you've yet to find him.

If you had known from the start the kind of bitterness your future with him would have brought, you probably would have turned your back on him the instant you met him.

Except you didn't and now look at where you're at.


	2. Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character age: Approx. 2 sweeps

Your name is Cronus Ampora and today is one very special day. You don't know this yet, of course, but that's beside the point. In fact, if asked, you would probably say that today is just like any other day you've experienced in your two sweeps of existence. So, as usual, you spend your time by idly drifting along the shoreline. The sun has set, the moons have risen, and god fuck are you bored. Not even the attention from your lusus is enough to quell your restlessness. Leaving you to do exactly nothing.

Today, as previously mentioned, is different. Usually there are no lowbloods out and about--or if there are, they're nowhere near the sea--and to see one this close to your hive... It would be a lie to say you aren't intrigued. You'd only even seen a couple lowbloods before after all so. Yes. Very curious you are indead.

You're not far from the shore, though you're submerged with your head from the nose up poking out of the water. The other troll--a yellow-blood, judging by that gaudy shirt he's wearing--is twenty or so yards in front of you on the shore. His back is to you but you can see that he's covered in sand and just barely make out the babbling coming from him. You can't quite tell exactly what it is he's saying but that doesn't deter you anymore than the blue-and-red sparks flying around him. Truth be told, it just draws you in further.

Carefully, as quietly as you can manage, you swim closer. You get as far as a few feet from the shore before it gets too shallow to stay underwater. You're wary, and you can hear more than just the sound of waves echoing in your ears, but you stand.

And subsequently slip and crash back into the water.

You yelp, more out of surprise than pain, and water forces its way into your mouth. This is no problem, really, considering the whole breathing undrewater thing, but it's still pretty painful. Nonetheless, you cough a couple times upon landing and rub at your eyes in attempt to get any sand that got in them out (that's the bad thing about shallow water--if you splash, you're apt to get sand in your eyes and everywhere else). Your vision is blurry at best when you start to notice the dark shape looming in front of you.

"H...Hey are you okay?" The voice is nasally, higher pitched than any other you'd ever heard. It's like nails on slate.

And yet it sends a flutter of nervousness through your fins and seemingly to your bloodpusher.

"N-Nah--I mean, yeah, I'm fine." You're still trying to blink the grit from your eyes, and your throat is sore, but yes, perfectly fine. No need to worry.

The blur shifts slightly and then there's a smaller blob right in front of you. You can feel eyes boring into you, and you can only assume that the smudge of gray stuck in your face is the other troll's hand. So, despite the gnawing of worry in your stomach, you reach out and grasp it loosely. The hand that wraps around yours, however, is much more firm and it takes little effort for its owner to pull you up out of the water. By time you're standing on firm feet and dry land, your eyes have worked their magic and flushed the grains of sand from your eyes, allowing you to see that mysterious lowblood beyond the smudge.

The lowblood--more accurately, a honey-blood--is taller than you, his short hair clotted with sand. His eyes and the most prominent of his features with the sclera being a dual set of red and blue instead of the yellow found in the others of his caste. His shirt is covered in as much sand as his hair, but underneath the grime it's yellow in color with a black symbol on the chest. His feet are bare.

He's also staring at you with a puzzled look on his face, as if he had just asked you something and was waiting on you to answer. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you quickly realize that you have absolutely zero ideas about what it was he'd just said, having been to busy investigating his strange appearance. He notices and instead of repeating himself he just laughs and plops down in the sand. It takes a little bit for to quiet down and by then you're starting to feel very,  _very_ uncomfortable.

"I'm Mituna," he tells you. There's a slight lisp to his voice around the 't' of his name. "You're a highblood, right? I never met one a you before since most of you stay in the water. Ya don' look all that different, though, not at all like everyone else said you did." He's watching you as he talks, though if he's noticed your uncomfortable shifting he doesn't seem to mind. "What's your name, anyways?"

It's when he pauses and looks at you expectantly that you jump on the chance to introduce yourself. "I'm Cronus!" Your voice trills a little but you just don't care because /could you really maybe be making a friend?/ Boy, are you excited. "And, uh--yeah, I'm a, er--" You falter a little; the few lowerbloods that you /had/ met didn't like you mentioning your status, after all, so of course you were nervous. "--a-a highblood. But I'm not real sure if that really means anything?? Except that it means I can breathe underwater I guess but--"

"Wait, you can breathe underwater for real?"

There's a look of awe on the other's face when he cuts into your sentence. (Not that you minded that he interrupted you because you honestly had no idea what you were going to say. You were just talking.)

"Uh, yeah?" You thought everyone knew your caste could.

"That is _soooo_ rad!!!"

Haha, wow. This guy sure is excited, isn't he?? You mean, it's not like you being able to breathe underwater is like the greatest flippin' thing to happen in the history of forever. But... Him being excited kinda sorta definitely brings a smile to your lips.

"Y-Yeah! It is kinda rad, isn't it?" You can't help but be swept along into good spirits. "I mean, it's really not as cool as what you were doing earlier but? Still pretty friggin' cool, yeah?" Yeah. Pretty "friggin'" cool.

You seemed to have caught him off-guard by bringing up what you'd seen him doing earlier. His eyebrows knit together in confusion, as if he was having trouble remembering exactly what he'd been doing just a few moments ago. Then he lights up--literally--eyes sparking with #003bff and #f20000 (not that you know these HEX codes because what kinda loser does knows that hoofbeastcrap). You watch, fascinated, until the lightshow fades and the troll breaks into a grin.

"You mean that??" he asks you. You can almost hear the extra question mark in his voice. Almost. "That isn' all that rad. I can't even control it yet. Need to practice." Huh. Must have been what he was doing just before you showed up. "'S what I was doing just before you showed up." Woah. Who could have _possibly_ guessed that one???

Moving on.

"It's still really cool, though," you insist, finally plopping down in the sand because it's. Kinda awkward, y'know? You standing while he's sitting. Just doesn't feel right. "I mean, I can't do that so it's cool to me." You pause a second--not too long because he'd probably interrupt you before you could say anything else--but give a mental flip of the table and blurt out, "What is that, though? That thing you do? Is it...uh..." You don't even know what it's similar to.

"Uh..."

Apparently he doesn't either.

You both sit there in silence for a while, faces kinda twisted in confusion and also kinda in pain because what kind of two-sweep-old needs to be thinking about all this anyways? Not you, that's who. It's about time you bailed on the think-train and hopped on board the fun-flight. And bail you do, in the form of hopping right back up onto your feet (but you just sat down!!! ugh). You stretch your hand out to him this time, mimicking his earlier action by pulling him to his feet. This time, however, instead of merely releasing his hand you pull him along behind you towards where the sand meets what you assume is his lawnring.

Okay. Now what? Hm.

It seems you haven't thought this far ahead. To hide this, though, you just kind of start babbling on about something. What exactly, you ask? Well. Babble. A string of words that make sentences that then make a conversation that is leading absolutely nowhere. He seems okay with this. He also seems okay with the relocation closer to his hive. And he's probably okay with the fact that you're still clasping his hand with yours or maybe he just doesn't realize but either way you're secretly glad. About what you have no idea. But this _you_ are okay with.

Right up until the point some rather loud grumbling cuts into your conversation, anyways.

You freeze instantly. Shoulders tense and fins slapped tightly against your neck. It occurs somewhere in your mind that this is probably just his lusus. It's only when Mituna yanks his hand from yours (and stumbles back a few steps, as though he'd been pulling pretty hard) that you actually thaw to your surroundings once more.

"Jesus, Cronus, what the hell!" he hisses. His voice is too pointed to make that a question.

"I, uh..." You falter. You don't know what to say. "I-I don't know what to say." Good, good. At least we're all on the same page here.

He snorts and you're pretty sure he's rolling his eyes and your cheeks are going violet and you feel like an absolute idiot because only grubs get scared by the utterances of the lusary, no matter how troubling it may sound. Then he sighs and trudges on ahead of you, going who knows where while leaving you standing there just like the idiot dumbdumb asshat you are.

He's gone for a while, probably pacifying his custodian, so you start looking around the area. There's no other hives in sight, just his gaudy, definitely-designed-by-a-wriggler hive with yellow awnings and uneven windows. There's some broken rocks in the lawnring surrounding it, as well as a single tree with what looks like rope hanging from one of the branches. Simple but you guess living close to the sea gives it a little more flare. Also makes it easier for you to come visit once in a while. If he lets you, you mean. You don't want to assume. (God you really hope he lets you.)

By time he comes back outside, you've wandered over to the tree and settled amongst its roots. His hair is even messier than it was before (how is that even possible, though??) and he looks as though he's just swallowed something about as far from a canary as one can get. He leans against the tree, heaves a huge sigh, and slides down to sit next to you. You're not sure what to say. Your lusus is pretty even-headed so you never fight with him.

So, since you're at a loss for words, you opt to give him an awkward pat on the head.

He doesn't seem to pick up on your very-obvious awkwardness or maybe doesn't care but he does seem to appreciate your effort. At least, that's what you take it to mean when he slumps against you. You're inability to know what to do ever makes you feel like a jerk but you at least try to make up for it by letting him rest against you without saying anything. You probably wouldn't even know what to say so you guess this is just the easiest route to take anyways.

He stays there for a while, head on your shoulder and horns poking awkwardly just below your jawline. You watch the grass as you sit. At one point you're convinced that he's gone to sleep, and the snoring that sounds moments later just confirms this for you. You shift your gaze to watch the sky instead. You have the decency to consider waking him up so he can go hop in his recuperacoon but you don't because you figure it's probably better to just leave him be.

That doesn't mean you aren't starting to get uncomfortable though. You're pretty sure your arm's gone to sleep and a rock has been digging into the back of your thigh for that last hour or so and you're starting to get stir crazy so when the sky starts to turn to a more milky color you can't quite say that you aren't relieved. You do need to get home quickly, though, lest you want to brave traveling in the light of the sun.

You do about the only thing you can think to do to wake Mituna up and give him a shake. Thankfully, he seems to be a light sleeper because he stirs only after one attempt. He's not completely awake, yet, but at least he moves enough that you can stand up and stretch your legs. You are so not used to sitting in one place for a long time and you aren't exactly ready to do that again any time soon.

The sooner you get back in the water the better in your opinion. No need to waste time. He's still blinking the sleep from his eyes when you look back down at him and tell him wearily that you need to be going. He kinda stares at you for a moment then nods.

"Come back again soon, 'kay?"

You're quick to smile and agree then hurry off towards the water. You'll definitely be back again, and hopefully soon.

 

 


End file.
